


Peregrine

by AvantGardener



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Love Letters, Secret Crush, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:40:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29034816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvantGardener/pseuds/AvantGardener
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	1. The Letter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thegrimreminder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrimreminder/gifts).



When the first letter arrived, Hermione couldn’t fathom who might’ve sent it; with its illustrious emerald-colored envelope, and it’s ruby red wax seal she might have assumed it was some summons.

Then, when she opened the letter, it’s light cursive scrawling on fancy stationery with crushed daffodil petals on every page, the crimson of the wax matched the particularly loud shade of red that flashed across her face.

The contents of the letter were… outright obscene. Hermione could only read passages at a time before she decided she could not handle anymore, and then after a brief pause the desire to know more consumed her. The blush traveled downwards, and Hermione had to put the letter away before her inhibitions had run off.

No sooner than she had, Harry and Ron had walked into the commons, bickering loudly and posturing just as loudly.

“I didn’t! I don’t even want to do it!” Harry’s objection sounded like an alarm, warning the opposing party to back off like the rattle of a snake.

“Then take it back. If you really don’t want to do it, if it’s really not your doing then forfeit and back out.” Ron, as always, remained a bull headed oaf.

The two had always had a particularly difficult time conceding, both too strong in their convictions to swallow their pride. Harry had no business competing, and it did seem entirely possible that given his bone-headedness he might have entered his name into the goblet by means of a proxy; the caveat to this is that to exit the tourney after his name had been read would be a social suicide.

But the boys continue onward, both incapable of respecting the grounds with which they stand on. So Hermione packed her things and had departed, emptying her thoughts to the more pressing matter at hand. She held the envelope in her hand, pressing it between her palms as if to try and ascertain its origin by means of osmosis. It was a double-edged sword. While it was reassuring to entertain the idea of someone thinking of her so… carnally, it was also terrifying to imagine that someone among the body of students was sending her such things. Anonymously. Taking the letter out of its sleeve, the only thing that adorned the bottom of the letter was some strange symbol.

Hermione tucked the letter between her books. It would require study, a puzzle worthy of her time. In fact, the smile that came to her lips didn’t just amount because of the contents of the letter. Hermione also delighted in the new challenge that had walked itself onto her doorstep. 

Hermione loved puzzles. Not necessarily because of the praise she received for completing them (a very welcome benefit) but also in the process of doing so she recognized as being the perfect whetstone for her mind. It was a way to prove herself, an ultimate test to register value.  
A particularly dark place in her mind could not hide the fact that without her ability to do so successfully, her friends may not be so kind to her. Her smile soured. No, she must do this. Her feet carried her to the place that would help her solve it.

~’~

Upon arrival, Hermione scouted to ensure that she was alone, and then stretched the letter out onto one of the dark oak tables. She had gathered every book on graphology she could find, and another dozen books on herbology and the secret language of flowers. Daffodil felt a strange choice for a love letter, and yet she was enchanted by the beauty of the pressed petal, it’s aroma an equally lovely aspect. Only one book she could find that could possibly address the strange rune that had been inscribed on the bottom of the second page. 

It was a large shield, held aloft by large birds, with two staves crossed. The bottom had been inscribed with a motto:

integritate scientiae

Hermione was saddened. The hunt was over too soon. The writer, despite having so ornately written the loveliest letter she ever seen, had left his family crest on the bottom. What would she do with the knowledge once she obtained it? She let her mind wander as she flicked through the pages of the book on heraldry, on who it could possibly be. She’d settled on Cedric. His temper certainly aired on an aura of sophistication that she had likened herself to. It also didn’t help that his physique was boyish enough to inspire charm, and rugged enough to keep it there. 

But as she reached the latter half of the book, she was stumped. The crest was not in here. Actually, nothing even remotely similar. Wizarding crests had a different shape to them then the one depicted on the letter she had received, and more items depicting scholarly integrity. This was older, and distinctly muggle.

Another muggle born had written this letter. And the smile found itself plastered onto her face once again. She would have to resort to other means, as the crest is otherwise untraceable. Furthermore, Hermione had no idea what students were and were not muggle born, so this provided a fascinating question. One that she had no idea the answer to.

Cedric had only one parent. Was it possible that his mother was a muggle? She enjoyed entertaining the idea, taking solace that one of the more attractive boys at her school shared a flaw.

No, not a flaw. Hermione’s brow furrowed. The rhetoric at this school about lineage had certainly left its mark on her train of thought. Before attending this school, it had not even dawned on her that she might be ostracized for having muggle parents. And yet, the ceiling caved around her once she had arrived. Students picked on her relentlessly. She could tolerate the insults about her hair. About her face, or her bookishness. But when they talked about her family, about her blood, it made hers boil.

And no one had sought to push that button as much as Draco. She pushed the thought away immediately. She would not let herself be derailed now, especially not by Malfoy.

So she bunkered down, and started on the book on flowers.


	2. The Acolyte

After an hour of perusing, she felt that she had not achieved much growth. Daffodils signified rebirth, or new beginnings, and while the concept was sweet, it did not give her much to build on insofar as a clue. Furthermore, after trying to study the differences in the writing to try and ascertain importance, it had dawned on Hermione that each letter was no different than any of the same. In fact, it had seemed that the secret admirer had used some kind stencil to carve out each letter, ensuring that his or her writing was uniform. 

Hermione was effectively stumped. Credit where it’s due, the writer of the letter was incredibly careful as to not reveal their identity, even under intense scrutiny.

And given that she had potions class in a few minutes, it seemed she would have to try and sleuth the answer later. And so, she carefully tucked the letter back into its dark green envelope, and packed all of her things into her bag, and returned each book to its place. And as Hermione walked out of the library and towards her class, she realized that she would not so easily be able to erase it from her mind.

Hard as she may try, she couldn’t escape it. It was quite possibly the worst earworm she’d ever encountered. She’d steer her thoughts towards school, and the letter and who might have sent it would crawl as soon as she’d swept it away.

And as she strolled into Snape’s classroom, and she’d seen the laboratory style tables, she’d noticed that people were sitting at different tables. She’d also noticed much to her chagrin that Harry and Ron sat at a table secluded. It was partners day. It was so unlike her to be so forgetful, she’d sat down and read over the syllabus, and yet she couldn’t remember any partner assignments in this unit. Regardless, she’d decided to sit at an empty table and wait for someone to be her partner. And as she watched people trickle in, and sit at different tables, she’d remembered that she was not particularly liked.

And the bitterness came back and situated itself in the back of her throat. She’d allowed herself to live in the fantasy that she was liked and cared about by her peers. The letter’s evergreen casing stuck out of the top of her bag, like it was sticking its tongue out at her. 

And when class starts, and she's alone at her table, she feels the blood rush to her face, the hot shame plastered like a warning all over her cheeks. 

“For today’s lesson, I’ve instructed the class to find a partner. The unit of the week will be dealing with antidotes, specifically identifying the necessary antidote for unidentified maladies. You’ll be expected to know multiple antidotes for five ailments, and you will be tested on this information, it will make up 20% of your final grade.”

Snape lifted his eyes from his book, and skated his eyes around the room, finally resting them on Hermione. His lips curled into a surly smile.

“No partner then, Ms. Granger? Very well then. I should ask you to see me after class then.”

~`~

As everyone filtered out of the classroom, Hermione sat anxiously in her seat, fiddling with her pen. Her flit from the students, and then back at Snape, his pensive form with his hands folded on the desk.

Once everyone had filtered out, Snape rose from the desk, and had beckoned her forward.

Hermione shuffled awkwardly forward.

“Ms. Granger. It is not careless to assume that you have read the book sections on the chapter?”

Hermione nodded.

“It is also, perhaps, reasonable to assume that, if I tested you on the information in this chapter, you’d pass with flying colors, no?”

Hermione pondered this for a moment and then smiled.

“I was thinking of having you as a peer tutor, since you have no eligible partners. Your fellow colleagues would need the aid.”

“Yes sir, I gladly accept.”

Snape softened. “As much as I have a prevalent detestation for your mouth, you are a good student. I trust you to handle this efficiently. Your grade now rests in the hands of your peers”   
Snape resumed his sneer, as Hermione’s smile went sour. She grabbed her books and shuffled out of the classroom.


End file.
